The Ride of Silence commemorates bicyclists worldwide who have been injured or killed while riding public roads. This year I participated for the first time and hopefully put my own injury behind me.
A police cruiser slowly pulls onto the road in a dazzle of swirling blue lights. Forty or so bicyclists snake behind traveling in its wake. A terse kickoff and I’m in the cages of both pedals, waggling like a fighter jet as I try to remember what a straight line looks like. With a safe cushion of space around me I give in to the slow churning circles that push me forward. The silence is a run-on sentence abruptly punctuated by the squawking siren halting cross traffic at the first light. The calm soon returns, bringing a sense of normalcy.
The elastic cocoon of a loose peloton forms. Kids on mountain bikes, adults on carbon, and a hand-powered recumbent three-wheeler seek a comfortable pace as the ride continues to the heart of town. Silence embellishes the symphony of mechanical whirs and wisps. Expensive gear sets vibrate like roulette wheels as lean riders coast.
The once natural instinct to spin (rather than push) takes over and I’m pleased to discover my hinges still work. I’m less pleased to note that I never really broke in the split-tail saddle I’m riding. But it’s a great day to be outside. The balmy air feels cool even at the sedate speed we’re spinning.
Two off-leash dogs bluff and feint toward the pack. A more experienced cyclist breaks away to place his bike between the animals and the slithering line of riders. A moment later he rejoins the group. My old training kicks in and I start to point out ruts and trenches, warning peddlers behind me. We pause in front of the courthouse for a half-way point photo op. Then we retake the road, looping around the block to head home.
The oohs and ahhs of excited children chase us down one block. Maybe they’ll join us next year. The sounds of a band playing outside fill a side street as we roll past. Another astonished onlooker watches and remarks at the number of riders. All along the route cars in the opposite lane had slowed down as if a funeral procession was passing. But I was most definitely alive. And moments later we all safely pulled into the parking lot we started from.
